


Let our bodies be twisted but never our minds

by deathorthetoypiano



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 04:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathorthetoypiano/pseuds/deathorthetoypiano
Summary: After Han, Leia made sure to always leave before morning.





	Let our bodies be twisted but never our minds

After Han, Leia made sure to always leave before morning.

She never slept well anyway, too many unfamiliar things - the sheets, the dips in the bed, the sounds, the light, the body moving beside her - to disturb her. She slept badly enough as it was, alone in her own quarters, to cope well with such disruptions. So she would stay long enough to rest a little, an hour or two to enjoy the warm body curled against her, the limbs twisted around hers, then they would inevitably shift away from her, however briefly, and she would slip away, leaving no trace but her access codes on the doors.

But more than that, it was a necessity. It simply wouldn’t do to have people knowing what she got up to - and, indeed, who with - in her free time, what little of it she had. She didn’t want to be claimed by anybody, so she simply didn’t let it happen.

She liked it, too, in a way. It kept her firmly in control, nipped any smugness in the bud, which in turn kept all but the very loosest of tongues quiet. It discouraged any attempt to turn a single night into an ongoing thing. It removed the potential for feelings from something that was more about indulging a craving, paying attention to desire for as long as it took to make it go away again so that she could get on with her job. It stopped things from getting serious.

That was before Holdo.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. What had started as a meeting, a catch up, filling in the blanks of what had happened since they’d last seen one another, of what they planned for the near and distant futures, had turned into a cosy dinner, and drinks, and, fatally, a nightcap. Leia had been ambushed by her own tactics, and her pride smarted for it.

But only a little.

She tried, of course. As soon as Amilyn’s arm slipped from her waist, Leia shifted away towards the edge of the bed. She took her time picking up her clothes, planning to dress in the other room of Holdo’s quarters before leaving. But as she found her boots, she heard a movement, a soft rustle and a couple of footsteps and then there were fingertips on the inside of her wrist, gentle but firm.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed,” Leia replied. She hadn’t slept a wink, not even dozed as she usually would, too aware of the lovely weight of Amilyn’s arm around her, of the softness of her hair against her skin and her breath on her cheek, of every tiny movement she made, too focused on her to relax. She was exhausted, and she had work to do, a meeting in just four hours, and everything that followed.

Amilyn considered this for a long moment. “I can’t convince you to stay?” she asked. “If you’re uncomfortable I’m sure it can be dealt with.”

Tempting.

But Leia steeled herself, raised her chin and declined, explained that she needed her own quarters, and expected that to be that. She hadn’t yet learnt not to underestimate Amilyn Holdo.

“Tell me honestly, General,” her voice was quiet, but clear, without so much as a wobble, her fingertips still gently tracing Leia’s wrist. “Can I hope that there might be more to this?”

Leia smiled, her chin dropping briefly, bashfully, to her chest, grateful for the cover of night that hid her. “You can hope,” she replied. “In fact,” she added after a pause, “I think we both can hope.”

She barely had time to register the movement in the dark before Amilyn‘s lips were on hers, a hand at the back of her neck, the other slipping to her waist. “Then go,” she murmured, pulling away, leaving Leia’s skin cold, “if it means I’ll see you again.”

It wasn’t easy to leave that morning, but it was the only way.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Is This Love?, by Alison Moyet.


End file.
